Taking Precautions
by Tdfgh1
Summary: Dorothy and the crew and sent by the Wizard to kill the Witch. But instead of marching down there unarmed and defenseless, they arm themselves as a precaution. Scarecrow is beginning to remember things,and the Lion is a courageous drunk. This is how things would have went.
1. Chapter 1

I'm now an assassin, thought Dorothy as she, Toto, Scarecrow, Tinman and Lion headed down to the army surplus store. She wasn't really considering killing anyone – even if it was the Wicked Witch of the West. She wasn't psycho to bear it, it was bad enough her house landed on the sister.

But still, it was good to be prepared.

For a small town farm girl, the store was both horrifying as it was fascinating. There were ghoulish masks with insect eyes and elephant like nose pieces, explosives that looked like limes, devices that _launched_ explosives, and a whole assortment of handguns, assault rifles, and other...stuff that Dorothy couldn't even identify. And the people that roamed the isles; there were Nazi looking Gale Forcers in black and green uniforms, chatting in rapid Gillikin that sounded German, and greasy Munchkins and Quadlings that looked like the folks that Auntie Em would warn about constantly. And the Animals! Shifty looking things with darting glances, moving quickly through the store as if in a hurry to get out.

"Lets just get this over with." muttered Lion, heading for the refrigerated area that sold liquor. Tinman headed after him, rolling his eyes.

Dorothy wasn't looking to go on the offensive. She skipped past the areas selling grenades, serrated machetes, and guns and picked up a bottle of pepper spray and a C-2 Taser Stopper. It was for self defence, she told herself as she read the warning on the box: _Overuse may cause Death. _They met at the counter, using Scarecrow's money that he earned while working as a scarecrow. He had bought hollow point bullets for his pistol, goodness know why he thought that necessary, Tinman got engine oil, and Lion was carrying bottles of some obscure, brownish liquid, one in each paw.

"Oh I do hope this doesn't end in disaster." said Dorothy as they left the store. "I mean...we're not actually going to _hurt _ her are we?"

Scarecrow shrugged vaguely. "If it comes to that, then there's not much else we can do. Preferably it won't."

"You have to remember that the whole point of this trip is to kill her." said Lion, taking a swig from one of the bottles. "Good god, we're gonna die – you know the Witch is probably going to make it ironic too." he turned to Dorothy. "She's probably in the midst of making a replica of your house so she can smush you with it."

"We don't know that." replied Scarecrow, almost defensively. "For all we know, she has no idea we're coming. We could be barging in on her one night while she's sitting at home, reading a book. It would be more like a home invasion on our part."

"I couldn't imagine it," said Tinman. "I mean really, the "Wicked Witch of the West being afraid of us? Of all people?"

"Well," said Dorothy. "We've got a drunk Lion with claws the size of my fingers, an immortal Scarecrow with exploding bullets, a Tin Axeman and...and I have no idea how to use a taser – what if I accidentally get her in the head and ending up frying her brain?"

"You'll be decorated at the EC for Bravery and Civil Justice." said Scarecrow jokingly. Or maybe he was being sarcastic."You'll be the first woman captain of the Gale Force."

"But I'm not even a woman!" exclaimed Dorothy. "I'm twelve for Christ sake! What was the Wizard thinking, making me into some assassin? He should have picked someone who'd been beaten as a child. Or better yet, a full on SWAT team."

"I can protect ya Doro'y." said Lion, beginning to slur his speech. "To hell with courage, I got claws! I could rip 'er bloody face off if I wanted to!"

"Thanks for the offer." muttered Dorothy. "But don't get too ahead of yourself. Unless the Witch makes a move, we're not trying anything - I mean, I did kinda squish her sister. Even if it's no more my fault than it is Toto's or the dining table that managed to stay in the house, I'd still like some closure."

"Dorothy's right." declared Scarecrow."Whatever the Wizard's demands, I don't any of us could...could kill someone like this, it's murder! Even if it's the Witch of the West."

Lion muttered some rough, drunken response and Dorothy looked up at him uneasily, worried. Who knew what he might end up doing in this state?

The sun was setting by the time they reached the border of the City. But instead of having to find a barn to sleep in, Scarecrow suddenly perked up, looking around at the run down area of city, as if recognizing an old friend. He guided them down a couple of streets, using the alleyways behind apartments and restaurants before stopping at the back door of wooden, warehouse of a building that smelled like old paper and disinfectant. His eyes were gleaming in delight at the sight.

Tinman used his axe to hack off the chain lock before hauling the open the swollen doors to reveal a set of muddy stairs, covered in strange, brownish footprints. Dorothy stared at the prints, curious. They were small, and narrow and smudged like a woman's stumbling, frantic steps. And as for that coppery colour...it didn't look like mud.

"Um Scarecrow..." began Dorothy. "What is this place exactly?"

"I – I don't know!" he exclaimed. "But at the same time I do, I used to come here all the time – I just know it!" He started up the stairs. Dorothy, Tinman and Lion all exchanged wary glances before following, avoiding the footprints. The smell of bleach based disinfectant grew stronger with every step they took, so by the time they reached the top, they were mostly breathing through their mouths, squinting through the dim light. Scarecrow opened the door to reveal an apartment of sorts. It was mostly empty, with a beautiful, overturned table, made with dark wood and carved so each of it's legs represented a different animal. There was a small cot off the the corner, a few scattered milk crates and most shockingly, a crumbly skull of an elephant, with dried roses spilling out of the top like brains. The display was mounted, somewhat crookedly to the far wall so it seemed to watch over the whole room.

"It's an abandoned corn exchange." said Scarecrow excitedly. "You see?" he pointed to a gaping hole the high ceiling. "That used to be a broken skylight."

"My god, did you live here?" asked Tinman, looking distastefully at the elephant skull.

"Maybe, I can't say but I remember this place, I know I do!" Scarecrow sat on the cot, running his hands over the old, dusty sheets. Then he stopped, his eye caught on an object between the wall and the far side of the bed. He slowly reached over and pulled out a cloth – a scarf by the looks of it. He held it in his lap, staring at it with wide eyes.

It was a black scarf with green fringe and roses scattered in the background.

...


	2. Chapter 2

"So what was the point of the whole poppy thing?" asked Liir, appearing at her doorway, leaning against the wooden frame, hands in his pockets.

"Liir, I have work to do." replied the Witch offhandedly as she carefully wired together the remaining lower jaw of some kind of wolf. Or Wolf. It was agonizingly precise work, drilling needle sized holes through the base of each tooth, pulling the copper wire through it to the base of the jaw bone then up through the next tooth and so on. Liir lingered at the door stubbornly. She sighed in irritation and asked, without looking up, "Where did you hear about that?"

"It's all over the paper, how Glinda the Good had to like revive them something. They would have died apparently – is that what you wanted?"

"I certainly wouldn't mind."

Liir looked at her pointedly. "Elphaba, have you ever..." he paused as if debating. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

The Witch sat up from her work, her concentration broken. She turned to Liir with the same expression she used to give Shell whenever he barged into her room as a teenager and said. "Don't tell me you've allowed gossip to get to you. All that Wicked Witch nonsense - its a pathetic scam to direct attention away from the disaster Oz is getting into. All thanks to our Glorious Wizard."

"So you're not a killer?"

"I do not use such words as 'killer'." she said. "It's a mere variation of a far larger action, twisted by perspective – I won't have it!"

"You're evading again."

"It's one of my specialities. There's a clue for you, now let me get on with my work."

Liir rolled his eyes. "Why do I even bother?" he muttered as he headed out, finally leaving her alone. But she couldn't help but smirk at his newly acquired demeanour. He had changed so much within the past few years; from a small, fat, meek little boy to a tall (he was almost as tall as her), lithe, young lad with an aptitude for cynicism and contending. Granted, it was annoying that she'd pretty much lost her grip on him, that every attempt at assertion was now met with a joking, needling remark and a smirk but she didn't really mind.

In fact, he reminded her of herself when she was fourteen.


	3. Chapter 3

Dorothy was worried about Lion.

They had been walking through the Vinkun Forest for a while now, and he was getting more and more agitated with every step they took, head darting to and fro, hearing noises and growls and mindless cackles behind every tree. So he starting drinking again, and fear soon turned to rage as he'd lunge forward, yelling, challenging 'them motherfuckers' to 'put 'em up', to step forward and fight. It was like when Dorothy first met him, how he threatened the group then went after Toto.

Except this time he meant it.

"C'mon ya spooks!" he drawled. "I...I k-know you're out 'ere, I'll rip out your fucking ribs, I will – show yourself!"

"You realize no one's going to clean up after you if do try something." said Tin man calmly. "You'll have to save some booze for afterwards, Lion. Unless you're dumping the whole thing in acid, in which case all you really need to do is -"

"Tinman, I don't need to hear this." said Dorothy, cringing at the image of claws slicing through green flesh, opening to reveal the red inside, letting it spray out onto the floor, their cloths, their faces – and then the Witch herself as she crumples to the ground...

"How long have those things been there?" said Scarecrow suddenly, looking upward in bewilderment at some kind of flock.

"I've never seen anything like them before." said Dorothy. "Look at those wings – do you have giant bats in Oz?"

"No, at least none that I've ever seen."

They kept walking, looking straight ahead in an uneasy silence. The tornado had demolished a good part of the forest, leaving branches and leaves strewn all across the Yellow Brick Road which was also beginning to come apart; bricks scattered out into the remaining trees, leaving gaps like missing teeth. A cold wind came across the crew, kicking up dirt and dust and dead leaves. It looked like a tornado and Dorothy shivered slightly in the chill. The forest was dead. The trees were grey in colour and leafless, a mere skeleton, surrounded by dried, brown grass and purplish, packed dirt.

They were completely unprotected – what if the Witch decided to drop by on her broom and kill them then and there? She could probably spot them by at least five hundred feet up...has the Witch ever fallen off her broom? Lord that would have been horrific; a sudden gale of wind tugging whisking her away, then the plummet , the feeling of doom as she heads down towards a busy intersection of the Emerald City, citizens gasping in shock, pointing as the Witch crashes down on a parked cab, splattering everywhere...

"Is it just me, or are those things getting closer?" said Scarecrow, looking up again at the unknown flock.

Limbs could now be seen protruding from the creature's torso – long and bony and black, hanging loosely as their wings flapped delicately against the current. But what was most disturbing was that their heads weren't even animal like. They were rounded with oval faces that were too far away to clearly distinguish but the overall effect was human.

"Shit, you know what?" continued Scarecrow. "I think they're flying monkeys."

Everyone, even the drunken Lion stared at him blankly as if he just declared the sky yellow with orange stripes. Maybe it was just his brainlessness talking.

"...Um..." Dorothy was at a loss for words. "So you ..._what?_."

"Flying monkeys!" exclaimed Scarecrow with certainty. "Didn't you hear? Well maybe you didn't, Dorothy but the others must have at least seen the headlines!"

"I've been paralysed for the better part of a year." pointed Tin Man. "The Lion was no better off."

"Alright fair enough," Scarecrow glanced up but hurriedly, anxiously. "So apparently the Witch had begun these biology, magick projects – experiments if you will. She's sewn wings onto the backs of monkeys and Monkeys and trained them into scouts – spies to keep tabs on the City and on the Wizard himself!"

"Wait so are they harmful?" asked Dorothy. "Or are they more like analysts?"

"Ooh I bet they're viscous." growled Lion, stretching his claws.

"There have been a few incidents." said Scarecrow. "Rumours mostly and nothing was written of it. I would have suggested we find someplace to hide if there was any such place here. Good thing we're armed." At that, he drew out his pistol and loaded six rounds of exploding bullets. "I suggest you get yourself ready Dorothy." he said.

Dorothy cringed at the idea of 'getting ready'. And oh god, those bullets. Dorothy had never seen the effects of dum dums but she heard they were nasty. Se imagined the impact to look like a drop of water hitting sand, grains scooped up by the force, dispersing every which way, leaving a dent, messier, more obvious than a puncture. Dorothy was glad she chose non lethal weapons.

She took out the can of pepper spray; a small, and orange with bold, black print. She felt awkward carrying around such a thing that could blind a man and bring him to the ground, withering for twenty minutes. It just wasn't her. But then what was her? She thought of the day just before the twister when Toto, dear dumb Toto ran through Gulch's garden and nipped her. Gulch wanted the dog dead and how had she reacted?

'_Oh but you cant! Auntie Em, Uncle Henry you won't let her will you?' _and '_Toto didn't mean to! He didn't know he was doing anything wrong!"_

Jesus that voice. Begging, pleading. _Whining_. Dorothy cringed. That had always been her previous tactic. To submit and beg for the best in the most child-like fashion. She looked at the orange can in her hand. This wasn't a great way of settling things either but at least there was more dignity in it. She could show herself to be strong for once -

A shadow covering her – like a hawk on a mouse -

"Dorothy what are you doing?" Scarecrow yelling at her. "Run!"

She blinked stupidly before turning -

A monstrous, humanoid face stared back at her, black eyes, intelligent, a flat nose, grey skin. It opened its mouth to reveal a human mouth, except the canines – big and white and pointy. Dorothy screamed and jumped back, only to trip over feet and fall on her back, wide eyed as the thing loomed over her, closer and closer

– the spray can!

She fumbled to break the seal and pointed it at the creature's face, pressing down to fire a clear spray of liquid. The monkey screeched, its eyes bloodshot, then sped away into the air like a startled bird, wheezing and clawing at its face.

There was a moment of relief before the pain. Dorothy gasped, her throat like sand paper, and shut her eyes, the sting boring deeper and deeper into her sockets before dissipating into something manageable. She staggered to a standing position, blinking to clear her eyes, catching the outlines of Lion with a monkey in a headlock, Tin man swinging his axe like a fly swatter, a sudden dark grey mass in front of her, reaching out, palms up...

"Dorothy look out!" yelled Scarecrow.

It took her a moment to respond and raise the can, bringing it close enough to almost touch the eyes -

_BANG!_

The sound was shocking and echoed throughout the forest as the monkey in front of her erupted in a display of bright, gooey reds, exploding in all directions, chunks flying, littering the ground, bleeding. Dorothy stood there, dumbfounded, mouth hanging open. There was a leg on her foot.

The image was incomprehensible, she needed to be rid of it, to forget it, at least for now. She felt herself detach from her surroundings, her vision blurring in a series of black dots, thicker and thicker until it came to blackness.


End file.
